Knight in a Leather Jacket
by TheDhampir
Summary: Rose Tyler had seen plenty of strange customers in her days at Bad Wolf Coffee - there was Jimmy Stone, the musician who treated her almost as bad as he treated his string of girlfriends, and Mickey Smith, who'd asked her out before even ordering his drink - but never before had she seen Mr. Big-Ears-And-Leather over at the corner table by the window.


**A/N**

**Part 1 of 3 unconnected one-shots that have come out of being bored at 10 o' clock at night in an empty house with nothing to occupy me but a plot bunny.**

**Nine's name is taken from Christopher Eccleston's character in the Leftovers because I'm entirely unoriginal.**

**Hypothetically, these could all happen in the same universe, if they didn't actually happen in the same universe. Meaning: Part 2 could only really happen in this 'verse if part 1 didn't happen, and part 3 could only happen in this 'verse if both part 1 and part 2 didn't happen. Have fun figuring that out.**

**Warning: there are some mentions of abuse**

"Hey, doll_._"

The too-smooth sound of Jimmy Stone's voice reached her ears all too early in her shift and Rose Tyler had to take a deep breath, reminding herself that it wouldn't be in her best interest to turn around and punch him in the jaw. The last time she'd even gotten agitated enough to call out his frankly horrid manners, she'd nearly been fired - something about Henry Van Statten not wanting to lose "one of his valuable customers," which was straight bullshit considering he'd stepped foot in the shop himself only twice; once the day Bad Wolf Coffee opened to make sure Rose didn't muck up on the first day, and the second just when she'd been about ready to give Jimmy Stone a piece of her mind last week.

It wasn't exactly a secret that he wasn't the best boyfriend in the world, actually, it was quite the opposite; or that he snuck alcohol into the shop to spike his drink every morning while he annoyed everyone else with his "genius" plucking at guitar strings that probably hadn't been tuned since he bought the instrument years ago; or that he treated both Rose and her American coworker, Jack Harkness, almost as badly as his bruised girlfriends. But he was a paying customer, and while his tips were small, they were part of how she was paying for university classes.

When she turned around, she wasn't surprised in the slightest to see his gaze traveling over her figure, the pastel pink, curve-hugging shirt she was required to wear for work only giving him more to admire. "Your drink will be ready in a minute, Jimmy, and I'll bring it over to your usual table." If she was going to be forced to sit through a two hour lecture on the literary themes in Hamlet in a few hours, Rose Tyler wasn't going to have her patience tested at only ten in the morning. Although, maybe an "accidental" stab through the chest with a broadsword is just what Jimmy's womanizing attitude needed.

Mere seconds later, she was leaning forward against the counter and watching his retreating figure, a sight only explained by the high tinkling sound of the bell over the door and a half an hour late Jack Harkness glaring at him while walking over to lean against the counter just a few inches away from Rose's arm. The thing about Jack is that he flirted with everything that moved - except for Rose, who was more like a sister to him, and Jimmy, because even Jack has some set of standards, even if he did buy his yellow work shirt two sizes two small on purpose. "Stone's bothering you already?"

"You're getting later, and he's getting earlier. We have a schedule for a _reason_, Jack."

They went to work, Jack muttering something about poisoning Jimmy's coffee while Rose went about wiping down the sticky counter top. Neither of them paid any mind to the ringing of the bell, expecting it to be Mickey Smith running a bit early - meaning neither of them even noticed the unfamiliar figure at the counter until the used rag was dropped onto the top of the pile and the freshly prepared drink was set aside so that the next one could be made. But what they both realized right away was that the broad shouldered, piercing-blue-eyed, leather jacket clad, seemingly very patient man with short cropped hair was _not _a regular.

There was a very simple difference between regular and new customers; regular customers either sat down at a table or made conversation with whoever the barista on duty was while their drinks were made, and new customers stood a few feet back from the counter scanning the posted menu for a bit deciding what to order. In this case, those few feet had shrunk to a few inches and it was very clear that there wouldn't be any time between when Rose asked him what he wanted and when she would get an answer.

In this case, she didn't even have to ask. "I'll take a hot chocolate, a lot of whipped cream, and just a pinch of cinnamon on top."

Northern. It took less than an instant for her to note his accent, and just a bit longer to make herself nod, focusing on his drink order instead of those eyes the color of a frozen over lake. "Coming right up."

* * *

Normally, when he gave someone his unusual order, they looked at him like he was insane and made some excuse about how it wasn't on the menu and they weren't authorized to make it. But at this tiny coffee shop just blocks away from the university, there was no excuses, or dramatic roll of the barista's eyes that only made him decide to never visit again, or begrudging sigh when they finally agreed to make his order only to muck it up. Instead, he got a polite smile when the blonde who took his order brought the mug over to the table he'd taken a seat at. The cocoa itself was perfect - not too thick with chocolate but not watered down by the machine, either - and the pile of whipped cream was almost three inches high with a dusting of freshly ground cinnamon. Sticking out of the base of the creamy topping was a waffle cone straw, the inside of it coated with a layer of chocolate.

Maybe he'd finally found a coffee shop in London he could stand coming back to.

* * *

After her afternoon class, Rose relieved Jack of his behind the counter duties and started to close up, the only person left in the shop being someone from the Shakespeare class she'd just left, packing up his work for the same paper she wanted to get started on as soon as possible. She had to wipe down the counter again, likely from Jack's inability to do so during the after lunch rush of university students getting ready to study with friends or cram for an upcoming exam. When the bell rang above the door, she didn't even bother to turn around, almost certain it was her classmate leaving to go work in the library.

"Hey, doll."

She froze at the sound of the familiar voice, aware that she wouldn't be able to rely on anyone walking in to step in if this turns into more than just a conversation. "I'm closing up, Jimmy. You can come back when I'm not busy if you really want to harass me."

The sound of his cold laugh made the hair at the back of her neck stand on end, a shiver threatening to shake her from the top of her head down to her toes. Being alone with Jimmy stone was not a good place for anyone to be, especially when everyone around the university campus had been talking about how his last girlfriend had just broken up with him. The only thing Rose wanted to do then was run in the opposite direction. If Jimmy was making the moves on her when he was in a relationship, what more would he do when he was a free man in a bad mood?

Keeping her back to him was a bad idea, she realized, when the sound of something sliding over the counter reached her ears, followed shortly by the sound of trainers landing on the linoleum floor. "You really shouldn't be so mean to me, Rosie." She turned then, but the speed at which she did so made her blonde hair fly into her face and the next thing she registered was a hand roughly grabbing her wrist as she was pushed into the counter behind her with just as much force. "I have ways of making little ladies like you be nice."

Rose gave a tug to pull free of his grip, tumbling to the ground when he, surprisingly, released her. Another thing she wasn't expecting was to be helped to her feet by strong, leather clad arms while Jimmy stumbled back a few steps before falling to the ground himself, his fingers gingerly moving over his obviously sore jaw. In all the commotion, neither of them had heard the bell on the door ring again, or noticed when the man with the peculiar order this morning had walked in to see just how out of hand things had gotten in all of five minutes until he threw a punch.

"Get the bloody hell out of here!" The anger in his voice made even Rose shrink back, barely glancing up when the rubber soles of Jimmy's shoes squeaked against the floor of the shop, that Northern accented voice going from furious to concerned as soon as the door closed behind him again. "Are you alright?"

Five minutes. She'd gone from tired, to terrified, to downright relieved in five minutes and her head was spinning with all of the abrupt changes. Still, she managed a small nod before leaning against the counter that she was tempted to never go near again. "Yeah; I'll be fine. It's just Jimmy." Except it wasn't _just Jimmy_. It was Jimmy every morning for over a year, and he'd just recently started to really take advantage of the few moments when they were alone without Jack around as her body guard.

"You should probably sit down."

How he'd gone from murderous to worried so quickly was still a mystery to her, but this certainly wasn't a time to ask him anything about it, not when he sounded like he actually knew what he was doing and her head was still spinning too much to ask a question that didn't sound clipped and frustrated. "Are you a doctor or something?"

She couldn't see his expression for more than an instant before he led her around to the other side of the counter, one arm around her shoulders while he steered her to the corner table by the window he'd sat at that morning. "Yes, actually. Doctor Matt Jamison, at your service."

With an almost thoughtful hum, Rose slowly shook her head and stood from her seat a few moments later, head no longer spinning nearly as much as it had been. "I think I owe you a coffee for your knight in a leather jacket act, Doctor Matt Jamison."

**A/N**

I purposefully left this open for the option to add more in case I had my muse come back for it, but chances are it will be abandoned here unless anyone convinces me to continue it.


End file.
